


Not Superhuman

by Jya



Series: Highway to heaven [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I Made Myself Cry, Injury, M/M, Sickfic, Yuta's healing smile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 19:27:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19279627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jya/pseuds/Jya
Summary: The NCT127 boys are falling apart. The Dreamies take it upon themselves to see to it that their hyungs are properly cared for.Fluffy angst. Angsty fluff.





	Not Superhuman

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing these boys so exhausted has been killing me. This is how I cope. I'm sorry in advance.

“Everyone take a minute to cool down. Meeting in ten,” their manager shouted. The volume of his voice was completely unnecessary; the room was silent. 

What was normally a rowdy, excited dressing room was quiet and subdued.

Everyone was done. They were exhausted, completely at their wits end, more than half of them injured, the other half sore and tired as well. 

Taeyong made his way to the other side of the room to collect the things he needed. Water for everyone. Ice for Yuta and Doyoung, heat for Johnny and Hyuck. He hated it. Hated all of it. When he’d heard they would be promoting their new album in the middle of their world tour he was… disappointed but not surprised. A world tour with so many dates so close together was exhausting enough, but with music shows tossed in there as well and more rushed travel, that was a recipe for disaster. And here they were, in the middle of disaster. 

He was so worried about his members. The way Yuta’s perfect posture dissolved the minute he stepped off stage and fell into a limping gait as his smile fell from his face was heartbreaking. The way Johnny and Hyuck had both lost weight, their faces nearing gaunt. The way Doyoung had gotten so quiet, Taeyong knew he was focused on hiding his pain from the rest of the members. He didn’t need to, they all knew, all felt it. It wasn’t like Doyoung to be so quiet. It wasn’t like any of them. They all shared this energy, or lack thereof, but each of them was still concerned about worrying the rest. He needed to sit everyone down together at some point. Of course they’d been tested as a group like this before, their rookie days had been nothing if not messy. But this was different. Everyone was hurting and no one was talking about it. They needed each other to get through this. They needed to talk and support each other. Their upcoming schedule was going to be beyond demanding, and they needed to talk in order to look out for each other.

He turned around, hands full of water bottles, ready to distribute them, when he almost crashed into someone. The someone had purple hair and towered over him. He had a stern look on his face as his hand reached for Taeyong’s shoulders, gently grasping them. 

“Go sit down,” Jaehyun said, already taking the bottles from Taeyong’s hands. 

“What?” Taeyong asked, caught off guard. He always did this. He was the leader, it was his responsibility. 

“You can hardly move,” Jaehyun said, setting the bottles down. He had Taeyong’s neck brace on his arm. He pulled it off gently set it around Taeyong’s neck. “Go sit. The car is coming to pick you guys up.” 

“What?” Taeyong repeated, hands falling to his sides in defeat. 

“Everyone who is injured is going home. We’re back at it tomorrow morning. Take the others and go get some rest,” Jaehyun said. His tone still abnormally stern. 

Taeyong had heard this tone from him before, but not often and never directed at him like this. He remembered the way Jaehyung had put the stage crew in their place when they were filming for Wakey wakey and they’d made Hyuck walk too much on his injured leg. Remembered the way he’d shouted at their choreographer when pushing Jungwoo too hard in his first MV filming session. Taeyong had no doubt he’d received a severe talking to from management afterwards, but it never seemed to stop him. He kept it infrequent, and so it was very impactful. 

He would have nodded, but between his brace and the pain, it wasn’t happening. “Thanks,” he said. Jaehyun clapped his shoulder gently and guided him back toward the couch, hand falling to his lower back. 

“Taeyong, Doyoung, Yuta, Hyuck and Johnny, you guys are all getting picked up in five. Get your things and get ready to go,” Jaehyun said, breaking the overall silence of the room. He didn’t wait for a response, just turned away and guided Taeil to the other side of the room. 

Several sets of eyes moved from Jaehyun to Taeyong. “He’s right,” Taehyong said, tightening his brace so it provided adequate support, “we’re useless to the fans injured. We should go home and ice, heat, watever, and relax.” 

“I can stay for the meeting, I’m-” 

“No,” Taeyong cut Johnny off. He didn’t mean to be rude, really, but he was short on temper as it was. Pain, exhaustion, hunger, you name it. Beyond everything else, he was frustrated. Frustrated by their schedule, frustrated that his members weren’t getting sufficient time to rest, frustrated by his own body most of all. Normally his pain threshold was high. He’d danced through sprains and strains before without too much difficulty. Sure he’d suffered after, but today had been a disaster. A disaster he wasn’t ready to face. “We’re all going. Management has been notified.”

“Is this really alright?” Hyuck asked. 

“Yeah,” Taeyong softened at the sound of the maknae’s question. He sounded almost afraid. Taeyong figured that wasn’t completely abnormal. It wasn’t often that they missed things like meetings or took time off for injuries unless they were severe. And Hyuck had only recently come back from a serious injury. Taeyong hated that he was here again. Hopefully he would recover quickly with a bit of rest and enough sleep. 

The ride back to the dorms was quiet. It was the quietest car he’d been in considering that Yuta and Johnny were in the car with him. Normally the three of them would be battling it out over whose first language radio impersonation was the strongest, making the driver absolutely insane. Taeyong was more concerned at this point about how they were going to get Yuta up the stairs on his bad leg considering he and Johnny were both a mess as well. Johnny would volunteer, Yuta would say no, someone would give in and the other would suffer. Taeyong would take it upon himself if he could, but he knew they’d both shut him down. They were both bigger than him and both more mobile, even if not by much. 

“Is that Jaemin?” Johnny asked, piping up from the front seat. 

Taeyong instinctively tried to turn and look, but his neck restricted him. 

“And Jeno?” Yuta added. 

“What?” Taeyong asked, the duo finally coming into sight as they pulled farther into the parking garage. 

Jaemin was leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face, dressed in comfortable looking grey sweats and a black t-shirt. When exactly had he grown up so much, Taeyong wondered. And Jeno, standing taller, Taeyong knew, than himself, grinning and waving to them. 

“What are the dreamies doing down here?” Taeyong asked.

“Probably playing hide and seek,” Yuta laughed. 

But as the car pulled into its parking spot, the pair walked towards them. Jeno popped open Yuta’s door with a smile. 

“Hey hyungs,” he said, eyes disappearing into his grin as it so often did. 

“What are you guys doing here?” Taeyong asked as Jaemin opened his door. 

“Jaehyun-hyung texted us,” Jaemin said, “said you guys could use a hand when you got home.” He offered his hand to Taeyong. 

“Piggy back? Or princess carry?” Jeno asked Yuta.

“You’re kidding me,” Yuta said, unable to hide his own smile. 

Johnny climbed out of the front seat on his own and stretched his shoulders out as he watched Jeno and Yuta bicker. 

“I know you’re only injured from the leg down. I can man-handle you from there up if need be,” Jeno said, hand falling to his waist as he helped Yuta out of the car. Yuta kept off his bad leg, but still didn’t seem on board with being carried. 

“You good?” Jaemin asked as he took Taeyong’s bag from him, “or er- ok to walk up stairs?” 

“Yeah,” Taeyong said. But even so, Jaemin’s hand fell to his lower back. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Renjun is upstairs ordering food and Jisung and Chenle took Hyuck and Doyoung upstairs.”

“What did Jaehyun tell you guys?” Taeyoung asked. It wasn’t often that the Dreamies came up to the 127 dorm. Had Jaehyun been just as firm as he was before? Or were they just being nice. 

“I’m not sure. Renjun got the message. Just said you guys needed some TLC.” 

Taeyong rolled his eyes. Oh well, at least no one needed to cook. 

“You’re insane!” Yuta shouted, grabbing Taeyong’s attention. Jeno had him on his back and was running toward the elevator. 

“Be careful!” Taeyong attempted to shout, but his voice was done. Even shouting hurt at this point. 

“He’s in good hands,” Jaemin said, closing the gap between himself and Taeyong, arm around his waist. Johnny caught up to them and the five of them climbed into the elevator together. 

“Seriously? Put me down?” Yuta was kicking his good leg trying to get free of Jeno. 

“No can do,” Jeno insisted, eye smile lighting up the atmosphere in the small enclosed space. “I skipped the gym for this, how else am I going to get my gains?” 

“Sorry, your what?” Johnny choked. 

“Gains, Grandpa, it’s like building muscle.” 

Johnny face palmed. “Please never say that again.” 

Taeyong had managed to crack half a smile by the time they got to their floor, but it was lost when he caught a quick glimpse of himself in the mirror on the way out of the elevator. He knew he looked like death, gaunt, thin and pale, tired bags beneath his eyes, but staring himself in the face made it that much more real. 

“Hi hyungs,” Renjun greeted them at the door. “Yuta gets shower on this floor, Taeyong, Hyuck should be done downstairs, you’re next. Dinner will be here soon, so come to the living room when you’re done.” 

Ok, so it was weird enough that Renjun was answering the door to their dorm, but the fact that he was organizing them? Taeyong must have been dreaming. But then if he was dreaming, there would be no injuries or exhaustion. 

  
  


“Jisungie, you really don’t need to take care of me,” Taeyong said. He felt awkward with the younger boy looking after him, even if he was taller than Taeyong now. 

“Renjun-hyung told me to, and sorry to say it, but I’m more afraid of him than I am of you,” Jisung said. “Besides, you’ve looked after me so many times. It’s time to return the favor.”

“Thanks,” Taeyong said, managing a small smile. 

“Now, do you think ice or heat will help more?” 

“I think heat for now,” Taeyong said. He’d been told to switch, but he really had no idea if either was helping anymore. Even if he could get it to feel better with rest for a day, it would still ache once he started performing again. The only thing that helped was not moving, and even then it ached if he’d used it too much throughout the day. The brace helped because it took some of the strain off, requiring less strength to hold his head up and keeping him from turning too much. But at this point he’d sort of accustomed himself to bending at the waist to turn rather than his neck. Pain was a great conditioner. 

Taeyong sat down as Jisung hurried from the room, and Yuta came into the room with a pair of crutches tucked under his arms. His hair was damp from his shower, pinned up from his forehead with hair pins. 

“Where did those come from?” Taeyong asked as Yuta fumbled himself down onto the couch, crutches and all. 

“I don’t know. Chenle just gave them to me and told me he’d cry if he caught me walking.”

“I don’t want to see you hurt, hyung,” Chenle said dramatically, placing his hand on his heart, “it hurts me to see you in pain.” 

“Dirty threat,” Yuta said, but he was smiling. 

“Are those mine?” Hyuck asked.

“I didn’t think you’d mind sharing,” Chenle said. He was now pulling Yuta’s leg up onto a pile of pillows he had set on the coffee tablee. 

“I don’t. I’m just surprised you found them. I told Mark-hyung to burn them when I got cleared to walk.”

Yuta grinned his gorgeous, healing smile, and Taeyong was pretty sure his body already felt better. That was until he instinctively tried to turn his head. 

His hand shot to his neck and Jisung winced for him, returning to the room. He had a handful of water bottles and what looked like a brown towel under his arm. Taeyong watched him hand the bottles out as he pressed on the skin beneath his collar bone, rubbing it to ease the pain. Jisung returned and sat down. 

“Get comfy, hyung,” he told Taeyong. He kicked off his own slippers and crossed his legs on the couch beside him. The towel looking thing was a large heat pack, and Taeyong glanced at it, wondering where it came from. “You need to take the brace off. Can I?” He reached for Taeyong’s neck carefully, as though he was afraid he’d break him if he touched him. 

“Thanks,” Taeyong said, arms and shoulders too exhausted to lift them. 

Jisung carefully undid the velcro and pulled the brace from under his chin, Taeyong re-engaging his neck muscles, unable to keep the pain off his face. “Sorry,” Jisung said, “I think it can go back on over the heat pad.” 

“I’m ok,” Taeyong insisted. He hated appearing weak, especially in front of the younger members. He always wanted to be strong for them, stoic, dependable. But right now his body was having none of that. 

Jisung dropped the brace and pulled the heating bad over his shoulders. It fell nicely over his body, covering both his shoulders and had an opening for his neck with almost like a collar. Pulled farther, it covered down to his collarbones as well. 

“Feel ok?” Jisung asked. “Do you want this back on over top?” He had Taeyong’s brace back in his hands, eyes wide and sympathetic. 

“No it’s good. I just need to lie down.” 

Jisung pulled a pillow into his lap and patted it. “Try this?” 

Taeyong winced as he moved, but managed to get into a position that was comfortable and didn’t strain his neck with his head in Jisung’s lap. 

“You sure that’s ok?” 

Taeyong sighed in relief, his body relaxing into the younger member. His hand found Jisung’s knee and he patted it gently. “Thank you,” he said quietly. 

“Tell me if you need me to move or anything,” Jisung said. His hand fell to Taeyong’s shoulder and Taeyong wondered if he knew how gently he was stroking his arm. It was a kind of affection he’d never really experienced from Jisung- all of this was, really. Of course he’d babied the maknae for years, pulling him into his lap whenever he could, feeding him, dragging him into his room for late night talks when he had the opportunity. Jisung had been so young when he’d made his debut with the SM rookies, even before that. Even before Taeyong was their official leader, he’d always felt protective over him. He wanted him to grow up well and to meet his full potential. Now, seeing how he was taking care of Taeyong, how careful and caring and nurturing he was? Taeyong was pretty sure he had. 

Just as Taeyong was starting to really feel relaxed, Renjun announced that food was here and brought in bags upon bags of styrofoam containers. 

“Hungry?” Jisung asked. 

_ No _ , Taeyong wanted to say. He hadn’t had an appetite in days, weeks maybe. He knew he’d lost weight. He could see it in his face, in his silhouette when he wore baggy clothes. Even his jeans were hanging off of him. 

“Mm, a bit yeah,” he said, not looking forward to getting up. The heat was so nice and warm and he was actually comfortable. “Where did you get this thing, by the way?” He gestured to the heating pack, touching it with his fingers. The material was soft and worn, like it had been used a great deal. 

“Jaemin-hyung got it for me when I-” He stopped, like he’d say something he shouldn’t have. 

“When what?” 

“I get neck pains too,” he said in a small voice, quickly adding, “not as bad as yours though.” 

“Shit Jisungie, I didn’t know that.” 

“I’m fine, don’t worry. I haven’t felt it in a while. Chenle says I dance with my hair too much.” 

“What?” 

“Come eat guys,” Renjun said, passing two plates to Jisung. 

Jisung took them, and Taeyong made a mental note to pursue this subject further later on. He usually tried to keep tabs on everyone’s health, but obviously Jisung had slipped his radar this time. 

Jisung filled up two plates for them as Taeyong pulled himself back into a sitting position, all feelings of relaxation disappearing from his body. He pulled the heat pack tighter around himself, pressing the warmth into his shoulders. 

Jisung set the plates down and pulled two sets of chopsticks towards himself. 

“Hyung? Are you alright?” Jisung asked, his hand jumping to Taeyong’s shoulder. “Do you need some painkillers?” 

Taeyong attempted to offer a brief smile, but he had a feeling it came out as more of a goofy frown. In all honesty, yes he probably did need painkillers, but he’d been told he wasn’t allowed to take them outside of schedules. He understood; they wanted to make sure he didn’t become addicted or build up a tolerance to them as he’d been given some kind of strong opioid. He’d been afraid to take them at first, but they did help him perform even if they did make him a bit drowsy and dazed. 

“What about a muscle relaxing pill?” Jisung suggested. 

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Taeyong said. “But it’s going to turn me into goo, you realize that right?” 

Jisung grinned. “That’s alright, as long as it helps.” 

And so Jisung jumped up and ran out of the room in search of the medication. Taeyong was about to call after him to tell him to eat first, but he was too quick. 

Thirty seconds later Jisung had dropped two pills into Taeyong’s hand and opened a bottle of water for him. 

“Two?” 

“That’s how many I take,” Jisung said. 

Taeyong would have responded if he hadn’t already tossed the pills back. Instead he eyed the maknae suspiciously as he sipped the water. What else was going on in the Dream dorm that he wasn’t aware of. 

Eating was difficult. Leaning forward hurt. Using his arms hurt. Chewing hurt. It all hurt. Jisung could tell, Taeyong knew. He tried to help, tried to feed Taeyong, even broke up his food into smaller pieces so he didn’t have to chew as much. He didn’t say anything, didn’t draw attention to him, just tried to help. Taeyong knew he would be forever grateful. 

In all honesty, it didn’t take much to fill him up. Hazards of eating so little over the last few weeks? Probably.   

“Are you sure?” Jisung asked when he said he was full, “You didn’t eat much.” 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just tired,” he insisted. 

“Let me heat this up again,” Jisung said, touching the heating pack still on Taeyong’s shoulders. “Or would you rather switch to ice?” 

This kid was way too good to him. 

“Yeah, let’s try ice,” Taeyong said, realizing he wasn’t going to relax until he himself was settled. 

 

“What are we watching?” Yuta asked. 

They’d eaten nearly all the food and Renjun and Jeno had cleared away all the trash before gathering as many blankets as they could find. 

“Avengers,” Jeno said. “Renjun downloaded the new one, but we need to wait for the others to watch, so we’ll watch the last one to refresh.” 

Everyone seemed to be on board with this. No one really seemed to have anything to say at this point, stomachs full of food and curled up on the couch. Yuta was at the other end of the couch, leg up on the table with ice on his knee, fully wrapped around Chenle. The smaller boy seemed perfectly content in Yuta’s arms. Jeno was spooning Hyuck who had heat on his neck and Jeno’s arm comfortably tucked under his neck. He looked like he was on the verge of passing out. Jaemin was holding a large ice pack on Doyoung’s shoulder as the two played a game on Jaemin’s phone, and Johnny was sitting across from them with heat on his neck as well as they waited for Renjun to get the movie going. 

Taeyong was feeling the effects of the pills he’d taken and he was lying back in Jisung’s lap with  the maknae holding an ice pack on his neck. Aside from the cold, he was feeling pretty alright as long as he wasn’t moving. Either Jisung could feel it in his skin or he guessed it, because he pulled a blanket down from the back of the couch and threw it over the two of them, tucking it around Taeyong’s shoulders. 

“Thanks,” Taeyong muttered quietly as the previews started. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah,” Taeyong said. He really missed being able to nod. 

As the movie started, Jisung’s fingers found their way absently into Taeyong’s hair. He’d seen Jisung do this with Chenle before and he’d always thought it was cute. But at the same time, it felt nice too. It was soothing and relaxing.  

The movie started, but Taeyong couldn’t focus. He was too far inside his own head, and he wasn’t sure anything could pull him out. 

He looked over at his members. It was heartwarming, everything the Dreamies had done, and it was nice to see everyone cuddling now and taking care of each other. But to Taeyong it felt like the eye of the hurricane. They had four more music shows in the next five days, then the others had a day off while he took part in the idol gaming olympics, and they were off to Bangkok for three concerts in three days. Everyone was so exhausted, Taeyong really had no idea how they were going to get through this. If they made it through the next week and a half with no major injuries and no one collapsing, it would be a miracle. And then they would go on to do more shows. They’d never had a schedule so overloaded, but then they’d also never been as popular and in demand as they were now. 

Being in America had been like a dream. They rode that high for four weeks, allowing the excitement to push them through interviews, concerts and other schedules. Everyone had the time of their lives. But coming back to Korea and promoting Superhuman, that was when the exhaustion hit them. The exhaustion made them sloppy, and they started to burn out. Take after take, recording after recording, their bodies wore down and their injuries reared their ugly heads. Everyone lost weight. They would come home at the end of the night and collapse from exhaustion. No one ate properly. Then they would get up early and do it again without enough sleep. How could they go on like this? How much could their bodies take? 

Perhaps the worst was that their fans could see it. Social media sites had blown up the first time Taeyong wore his neck brace through the airport. He hadn’t wanted to. He’d kept it off the radar for nearly a month, but this time the pain was bad. Maybe he should have opted for a mask and a hood/hat combination and just tried to hide the pain, but even then he didn’t think the fans would miss it. The media was everywhere. They saw everything. It was frustrating, because Taeyong didn’t want to worry them; none of them did. But at this point, no one could hide how exhausted they were. And there was absolutely no way around it. What could they do? Or rather, what could  _ he _ do? He was the leader, responsible for looking out for the other members. He could hardly tell them to sleep through practice. 

His eyes fell to Hyuck who was now passed out in Jeno’s arms, curled into a tight ball. He looked so small. He’d lost so much weight. Taeyong had noticed it when he returned from his leg injury, but now it had gotten so much worse, and to think that he was injured again. As hard as it was for everyone, once their promotions were over (eventually), they would get some rest, if they made it that far. Hyuck however, would be dumped into a fresh round of promotions with Dream. It would be harder for him than anyone. He would be behind with Dream choreography and would need to rehearse even harder. 

His heart hurt for the young man. He wished he could help him. Wished there was a way to take away his pain, even if it meant taking it upon himself. He was the leader, and he felt completely helpless. It was like a knife wrenching its way directly into his chest, winding him and making him feel useless. Watching his members suffer, knowing he could do nothing… that-  _ THAT _ hurt more than his body ever could.

  
  


“You’re not taking your pain killers because they’re only for schedules, am I right?” Yuta asked. Taeyong was leaning against the headboard of Taeil’s bed, having occupied the older’s bed so that Taeil could take his. Johnny was feeling dizzy, and Taeil insisted that he be the one to keep an eye on him overnight. Taeyong would sleep better in Taeil’s bed, away from the hourly concussion checks. 

“Huh?” 

“Am I wrong?” Yuta wasn’t stupid. He knew that Taeyong heard him. As infrequently as they might talk these days, Yuta knew how to get information out of him. 

Again, Taeyong wished he could shake his head. “No.” He and Yuta had always been close, but it had been some time since the pair had had any kind of serious conversation regarding either of them. They talked often about their concerns for other members or about work, choreography, even scheduling. But now Taeyong could see a conversation growing that he wasn’t sure he was entirely ready to have with Yuta- or anyone, for that matter. He wasn’t even really ready to face this himself. He’d been so busy, it had been so easy, after long, exhausting days to just… not think about himself.

“I was told the same thing. Don’t take the pain meds outside of work.” Yuta sighed and sat down at the edge of the bed. He’d obeyed Chenle and kept off his leg. Now he pressed the crutches against the wall and inched himself toward Taeyong. “But then I talked to a physiotherapist and did some of my own research. I get what management is saying, but your body isn’t resting if you’re in pain. The pain stresses your body more and you can’t heal. It’s why pain medication exists. Trying to tough it out won’t help you heal.”

Taeyong dropped his hand from his shoulder. It ached- everything ached. It was frustrating, and it was making him grumpy. “Performing like this won’t help me heal either,” Taeyong deadpanned. 

Yuta didn’t immediately reply. He just looked surprised. 

Taeyong didn’t talk like this- ever. It wasn’t smart to speak against the company no matter the capacity. It wasn’t that he thought they were being recorded or their rooms were bugged or anything, it just wasn’t something you talked about. Their contracts were stone bound and things could always be worse. Overall, they were typically taken care of. They were like professional athletes; they needed to be with their team, working regardless of their health except for extreme situations. But Taeyong had lost track of what extreme even meant at this point. 

Yuta yanked open the drawer on his nightstand and pulled out a bottle. He tossed it to Taeyong, “no one said we can’t take over the counter pain medication. You’d take it if you had a headache, wouldn’t you?” 

Taeyong caught the bottle and turned it over in his hand. It was an extra strength pain killer, one that he’d taken before, but not often. Not that he was going to say it out loud, but it would take a pretty extreme headache to make him self-medicate. 

“I already took a muscle relaxant,” he said, looking back up at Yuta. 

“Great,” Yuta shrugged, “you’ll sleep well tonight then. There’s no use lying awake all night in pain. And don’t try to tell me you haven’t been.” 

Taeyong wasn’t going to argue, even if he might want to. It was true. The pain had literally interfered with every aspect of his life. He couldn’t even laugh or shout without pain, let alone eat or sleep. He wasn’t stupid; he knew he needed both of those things in order to recover. Yuta was right. He uncapped the bottle, feeling the weakness in his shoulders and arms and choosing to attribute it to the muscle relaxant rather than the pain. He poured two pills into his hand and dropped them onto his tongue. Yuta handed him a bottle of water, which he took and washed them down with. 

“Thanks,” he said.

He handed the bottle back to Yuta, who opened it and poured two pills into his own hand. Taeyong gave him the water and watched as he gulped them down. “Cheers,” he said. 

Taeyong forced a small smile. 

“What’s on your mind, Yongie. We haven’t shared a room in a while.” He leaned back against the wall, hands behind his head. He winced slightly as he bent his legs, choosing instead to keep his bad knee straight. 

Taeyong felt himself automatically frown. Yuta’s leg had given him the most trouble a few days ago. Today he had danced flawlessly without any sign of injury. At the time, Taeyong wondered if he really did feel better, or if he’d just taken a large dose of painkillers. Now he knew for sure. 

That feeling of the knife in his chest hit him again. He’d so hoped Yuta had actually been feeling better. 

“Yongie, stop worrying so much. Talk to me,” Yuta pleaded. 

Taeyong stared at him, knowing how distressed he would appear. But he couldn’t help notice the bags under Yuta’s eyes, the tired, stressed lines strung across his forehead. He had his hair pulled up and tied at the back of his head emphasizing how thin his face had become. It hurt to see his friends like this, knowing he couldn’t do anything. 

“I just… I hate seeing you all like this,” Taeyong finally conceded. “Everyone is so exhausted and hurting and I-” he could feel himself breaking. All of his pent up frustration was coming to a head and it was going to explode. “I can’t do a fucking thing about it!” He smacked the wall beside him. 

Yuta jumped at the action, but quickly recovered and grasped Taeyong’s hand. 

“Careful,” Yuta said, taking Taeyong’s hand into both of his. He knew it should hurt, but he felt nothing. Only frustration, anger, rage. 

“You know we feel the same about you,” Yuta said, keeping Taeyong’s hand in his, but reaching to brush his thumb across Taehyong’s cheek, the rest of his hand lingering on the brace. “It’s so hard to see you like this, Yongie.”

“But I’m the leader. I should be… doing something to fix all this. I’m responsible for this team, for taking care of everyone.” 

“No one but you sees it that way,” Yuta insisted, grasping Taeyong’s shoulder gently, dragging his eyes to meet his own. 

Holding Yuta’s stare wasn’t easy. His eyes were captivating, dangerous at the best of times, but when he wanted to make his point and you were avoiding it, they were the worst place to be. But at the same time, you couldn't look away. Once you locked eyes with him, it was game over. He knew it too, and knew how to use it to his advantage. 

“No one blames you for anything, and no one expects you to do anything. We’re just… we’re all tired. We need a break, but that has nothing to do with you and how you lead us.” 

“It just doesn’t feel right,” Taeyong said, tearing his eyes away from Yuta’s, his gaze falling on Yuta’s bad knee. In the pants he was wearing, Taeyong could see how swollen it was. 

“What do you think you could be doing differently?” Yuta asked, pulling Taeyong’s hand closer to his face, examining it for damage. 

“I don’t know. I wish I could figure that out.” 

“You’re just as exhausted and just as injured, if not more so than anyone,” Yuta said. “You can’t be losing sleep over this or you’re not going to make it.” 

Taeyong didn’t know what to say. He knew Yuta was right. As toxic and stressful as his thoughts might be, he wasn’t dumb. As much as he wished he could take everyone’s pain away, he knew he couldn’t. He wished he could sway the company into cancelling everything and letting them rest, but even that he knew was completely unreasonable. Besides, that would mean letting the fans down, and that was  _ not _ an option. No. There wasn’t anything to be done. They just… needed to get through it. 

“Taeyong…” Yuta began, dragging his attention back to him. “What about you? You’re in rough shape.” 

“I’m fine,” he automatically said. He didn’t even think about it, it just came out. 

“You’re not. I’ve never seen you dance so poorly,” Yuta said, flat out. 

The words hit him like a truck. And holy fuck did it hurt. He felt winded, like he couldn’t breathe. He tried to take a deep breathe, but his chest felt tight and his neck hurt. Instead he started coughing- hard. He buckled forward, bending at the chest and the waist as he struggled for air, his lungs fighting against his body for oxygen. 

“Hey,” Yuta said in a panicked tone, his hand quickly on Taeyong’s back. 

He was breathing fast now, short, shallow breaths but it hurt all the same, and he couldn’t get enough air. 

Was he having a panic attack? Was he dying? 

“Hey, Yongie, it’s ok, slow down.” 

He’d stopped coughing, but his ragged breathing was painfully persistent. He felt Yuta move closer and there was a hand on his chest as well. 

“Sit up, hun,” Yuta said softly, pressing on Taeyong’s sternum to right his posture. “Deep breath, come on, you can do it.” He sat Taeyong up and leaned forward, getting in his face and making eye contact. “Come on, breathe with me.” 

He guided Taeyong through a couple of deep breaths, Taeyong still breathing way too fast, but slowing down a least a little, enough to get enough air into his lungs to effectively participate in the required gas exchange. 

He was warm now, sweating. He’d been cold most of the night, but not anymore. Yuta’s words came back to him-  _ I’ve never seen you dance so poorly. _

He had not been expecting that- at all. But Yuta was right, wasn’t he? Taeyong had never felt so lousy on stage. His movements were so restricted, especially with a choreography like Superhuman that involved so much head movement. He couldn’t do anything right, his body was stiff and painful and he knew it came through in his expression. The energy and persona he normally had on stage was nowhere to be found. He’d ignored watching the performance clips for that very reason. So why was he so surprised to hear it? 

Because he hadn’t thought about. 

Of course he felt the pain- it was relentless, constant. But he was focused on his team, his members, his friends. He was focused on feeling helpless, because not being able to take care of the others was awful. But he’d avoided all thoughts about himself. He’d never asked himself if he would be ok tomorrow, if he’d be able to perform the next day. It wasn’t a question. As long as he could move, he’d been on stage. As long as he could physically do it, he would. But Yuta was right, he looked awful. 

Now that he was here, what was scarier was that there was no end in sight. What if he woke up tomorrow and couldn’t move? What if it got worse? How much more could he handle? He told himself he would perform regardless, but how much could his body really take? What if he collapsed on stage? What if this injury got worse and… didn’t get better. He’d never really considered permanent injuries, but… what if? 

And what could he do? He was as helpless to help himself as he was to help his members. 

And holy shit was that terrifying. 

“Yongie?” Yuta interrupted his thought pattern, thankfully, “hey, look at me?” 

He did. But this time, Yuta’s eyes weren’t intimidating. They were soft, comforting and familiar. 

He didn’t know where it came from or how it started, but the next thing he knew he was crying. Tears were pouring down his face, and he was in Yuta’s arms. 

“Fuck I’m sorry,” Yuta said, his voice was frantic, but his touch was gentle. He was so careful the way he held Taeyong, making sure not to hurt him. “I didn’t mean it. That’s not what I was trying to say.” 

Taeyong couldn’t speak. He had no words, he just cried. Disgusting, uncontrollable, obnoxious crying. The kind that you can’t stop or keep quiet, the kind that just takes over you and doesn’t let go until it’s finished. 

“I’m so sorry,” Yuta whispered, his voice cracking as well. He was holding Taeyong tighter now, fingers gripped tight in Taeyong’s sweater. Taeyong squeezed back as much as he could, burying his face in his friend’s shoulder. It hurt- God did it hurt, but it was like he was feeling pain for a different person. It was there, but it wasn’t. There was pain, but there was more fear, helplessness, feelings swirling in his head so fast he couldn’t keep up with them. He clenched his eyes shut, felt the muscles tense in his neck and squeezed Yuta so hard. 

Yuta was crying now too, sobbing into Taeyong’s shoulder, but his hand was loose, gently holding Taeyong’s head, stroking his hair. “I’m so sorry,” he cried. “I didn’t mean it.” 

Finally, finally Taeyong could breathe. He took in a huge breath of air, and then another. “It’s ok,” he managed to say with a hoarse voice. “I know.” 

“It’s not ok,” Yuta said, pulling his head back enough to look at Taeyong. His eyes were red and swollen and held so much hurt. 

“You’re right though. I can’t dance right now and I’m so, so scared of what’s going to happen,” he confessed, eyes dropping to where he was holding on to Yuta’s shirt. 

Yuta reached for him and wiped the tears from his eyes and cheeks. He sniffled and used his sleeve to wipe his own eyes. “I am too,” he said, so quietly that if Taeyong hadn’t looked back up at him as he spoke, read his lips, he might have missed it entirely.

“I don’t know what to do,” Taeyong said. His walls were gone, both the walls keeping everyone else out, and the one denying his feelings to himself. Everything was bare, open, vulnerable. “It hurts, Yuta, not just my body but… it hurts here too,” he said, with a hand on his chest. “I hate it all. I hate everyone hurting and I hate being so… so afraid. God I’m so fucking afraid.” 

Yuta all but scooped him up and pulled him into his lap. He formed a diamond with his legs and pulled Taeyong inside, wrapping his arms around Taeyong’s body, still careful to avoid his neck and shoulders. “It’s ok to be afraid,” he whispered. 

“Is it, though?” 

“Of course. Feelings are… normal… inevitable.” 

“Is it ok to be this afraid for myself though?” 

“What do you mean?” Yuta asked, pulling back a bit. 

“It hurts so much, what if I- What if I don’t get better? What if I just keep getting worse and I can’t dance?” Saying the words out loud felt… weird, to say the least. It felt kind of wrong, a bit embarrassing, but also freeing? Like now that he’d said it out loud, it wasn’t only his burden to bear. 

“You need a break, Yongie. You need treatment and rest,” Yuta said, his voice regaining its stability. He brushed Taeyong’s hair out of his eyes and tucked a stray lock behind his ear. The touch felt nice- soft and gentle. He found himself wanting to fall back into Yuta’s arms and fall asleep there. Safe from his feelings, safe with someone who knew what he was thinking. 

“It isn’t just me though. It’s all of us.” 

“No. You need to explain how bad it is and you need to get properly checked out. Let the medical professionals do their job. If they tell the company you can’t dance then you can’t dance.” 

“I don’t know if it’s that easy,” Taeyong said softly. 

“We need to try,” Yuta said, brushing the lock of hair over and over again as it refused to stay behind his ear. “I’ll come with you, help you explain.”

Taeyong sighed, releasing all of the tension from his shoulders. Everything was out in the open now, his feelings spilled all over the bed. Yuta could see it all, and somehow, it felt good. It felt like he was no longer alone inside his own head. 

There weren’t words. They didn’t have any. The situation sucked and everyone was just as exhausted and injured as they were when the conversation started, but somehow Taeyong felt like a weight was lifted. His neck still burned with the same fire that had been plaguing him for days, but his mind was quiet. It was almost soothing, to feel nothing but the physical pain. The dark storm cloud that had been raging inside him wasn’t gone, but at least he wasn’t standing under it alone anymore. 

“We’re gonna get through this,” Yuta said, dropping his forehead gently against Taeyong’s. 

Taeyong let his eyes fall shut as he slowly exhaled. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for being there. For everything.” 

“Any time. All the time. Always,” Yuta said. Taeyong didn’t need to open his eyes to hear the smile. Yuta’s healing smile. And he didn’t need to see it to feel its effect. 

“Sleep with me?” Taeyoong asked, grasping Yuta’s hand. 

Yuta nodded. He shifted so he could pull the blankets down allowing them both to climb in. There was general wincing, aching joints, aggravated injuries, but neither of them complained. Yuta gave Taeyong his flat pillow and made sure he was comfortable before turning off the light and pulling the thick blanket over both of them. 

“Is your neck ok?” Yuta asked, shifting his own pillow so he was facing Taeyong. He settled in close so their foreheads were touching. 

“Not really,” Taeyong admitted. “It hasn’t been ok in days. What about your knee?” 

“The same,” Yuta said, “since we’re being honest. The painkillers will kick in soon.” 

“I guess all we can do is sleep… right?” 

“Yeah. One day at a time. We’ll get through it.” 

Taeyong squeezed Yuta’s hand. “Thank you, for getting me to talk.” 

“I didn’t really do much,” Yuta said, a hint of his smile in his voice again. “You just sort of… busted your emotional constipation all over me.” 

“You did not just say that!” 

Yuta laughed, and Taeyong could see his huge smile in his mind. It was like the hot sun shining on him after days of nothing but cold and dark. 

“No more hiding things from me, ok?” 

“I’ll try,” Taeyong said, smiling. It felt weird on his face, like his muscles were cramping from smiling his first real smile in days. Nothing was forced and no one was around to see it. It felt good. 

Yuta laced their fingers together and wrapped his other arm around Taeyong. For what felt like the first time in forever, he felt safe. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos are greatly appreciated, and if you enjoyed it, please consider leaving me a comment!
> 
> Come chat with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/pinkchimmm).


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